Clipped to a Standstill
by Celyn Rhys
Summary: As if the hellish abyss of Raccoon City wasn't enough to keep them busy, Leon and Claire now find they have their reluctant hands full dealing with each other aswell. Where is that damn shotgun, anyway? Leon/Claire. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! So sad.

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A drawn out, agonising moan dragged itself out of the cracked, blue lips of a staggering zombie, the uncoordinated corpse catching what was left of its foot across the back of his other leg. The once legitimate salesman fell forward with graceless, yet unforced effort. Like a heron swooping down for its prey, a bullet shot through the air to meet the curve of his neck halfway.

"_Damn_, I almost had that, then," the blond, freshly recruited (and freshly sacked too, by the looks of it) police officer pursed his lips and frowned slightly. Another round was jammed absent-mindedly into the corresponding component, and a slicked click was all it took for him to aim for that crucial spot.

As the drooling form edged closer _ever_ so slowly towards them, a look that was comparable to a haunted baby in the un-dead's eyes, Leon's finger twitched once over the trigger. The barrel of his handgun tilted marginally in the dark, musty air of the abandoned alleyway.

Just a little...bit..._more_...

Without explanation, a muted, wet explosion haphazardly ripped through the said zombie's cranium. The unexpected shot sprayed pieces of internal anatomy everywhere like an overtly zealous artist, wanting to taint a canvas as quickly as possible. Bright red, glistening entrails attached themselves to Leon's left leg.

"Keep up, Kennedy!"

His frown deepened as he took a sharp breath in with annoyance. His stomach instantly regretted it though, as his senses were greeted with the fragrance of rotting flesh and not-so-fresh blood. Leon swung his free arm across his face and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. His uniform didn't smell at all better, though.

It was such a shame, considering he'd washed it twice every day for a week leading up to this day, in naive anticipation. If he had known he'd be wading through thick sewage, and decorated liberally with the insides of the un-dead...he would have settled for that smell of plastic storage bag and dust.

Claire whipped her head around in a planned movement, throwing him one of _those_ looks over her shoulder. Her ponytail almost whipped him in the face, they were standing so close. Weren't they on separate ends of the alley, just a moment ago?

Leon responded with a squinted glare over his sleeve. Without turning around, he cast a blind shot in the opposite direction to cull a crawling, battered woman foaming at the mouth. It had been on its track towards Claire's poised ankle.

The brunette, too, pursed her lips then. Although she had more lip to show than he did, it was nonetheless _annoying._

"_Keep up_, Redfield."

At that moment, yet more gargles and moans signalled the advance of blood-thirsty civilians. The moon had risen sometime ago to watch this frenzied catastrophe; an entire city brought to its knees by the fruits of careless research. The youngest Redfield in question quirked her mouth upwards slightly, before the look dissolved into muted horror once more. Cutting short the sharp advance from an infected mutt, her handgun clicked. And clicked. And _clicked_. She pulled the trigger multiple times, somehow not absorbing the truth from that seriously unwanted sound.

_'I need more bullets'_ the detached, lonely thought drifted into her adrenaline fogged mind like a scrap of paper in the ocean. A zombie infested, blood filled ocean.

Leon's accompanying shot resonated through the damp stone walls that sealed the cramped space. A middle-aged man's arm subsequently flopped to the ground. Blood surged from the open wound as if it were a fountain, but still, the infected hostile failed to stop his sluggish advance.

"Claire, common! Snap out of it, I thought we were getting out of this _together_."

A random, distant moan answered him. A young female zombie overshot her path towards them and tipped slowly into a nearby pile of garbage.

"Leon," Claire breathed, her spare, gloved hand assaulting her pockets hastily. "I'm out. I'm out of ammo."

"What?"

"Get your hearing checked, ace!" The brunette's voice wavered slightly, and she felt the urge to move closer to Leon. He was suddenly much taller than her, and she felt..._scared_. This was it, right? Was it? Now, here, with a rotting army of walking corpses trying to naw her limbs off?

"I _heard_ what you said, Claire" Leon's voice steadily responded, his own hands frisking his pockets, trying to find a spare clip that he'd picked up off the body of another civilian. If Leon Scott Kennedy was anything, he was adaptable. Or so at least he told himself, as his feet twisted uncomfortably within his own shoes. Stepping in a puddle was bad enough, but when your socks were saturated with _someone else's_ blood...well, that was an entirely different ball game right there.

His heart beating out of rhythm within his chest, Leon's clambering hand finally produced the precious ammunition. Pulling the trigger on another feral dog, he carefully (well, as carefully as he could manage, considering their current situation) tossed it over to his impromptu partner.

Gathering her wits, the clip was caught. A shaky inhalation of heavily laced oxygen. A familiar marriage of ammunition to weapon. Until death do they part.

...Only, for Claire Redfield, apparently things _just weren't that simple._

"It...won't _fit._"

"What?" The steely eyed cop repeated, as he stole a glance at her from his focused gaze upon another target.

"_Dammit_ Leon, if we get out of this alive I'm buying you a hearing aide!"

The said officer's attention turned slightly sour, and to those who knew him well, shocked. As if they weren't _both_ in shock already.

"Well if we make it through this, I'm buying you a pair of glasses then! There is _nothing wrong_ with that clip, Claire."

"Yes, there _is_!" She insisted, now hastily and frantically trying to jam the offending cartridge into her once trusty handgun. A tinge of disbelief and a light dusting of hysteria mauled her words. Without her knowledge, a raging, infected pensioner fell forward towards her, fake teeth covered in a clotted layer of blood. A series of choked moans reverberated in the said zombie's chest; it sounded as if there was a _blender_ in her throat or something. Redfield reflexes flared to life, and she twisted into a roundhouse kick. Her once clean boot connected with the fragile stomach of the old woman, and a sickening crack was her answer.

Almost as if Claire had poked a plush stuffed toy at a fair, the moment her foot connected with the midriff of the infected old timer, the woman's internal organs launched themselves from out of her gaping mouth. The vessels dribbled and plopped themselves up as she unnaturally vomited, wrapped in thick clots of blood.

A stray kidney went straight for Leon's leg.

It was like the lower half of his uniform had the inbuilt ability to attract forensic evidence or something.

"...Uh,_ urgh_." His arm swung around to cover his lower face once more, shooting the woman who's insides had now made themselves known all over the alley floor.

Stepping back into place and squelching her foot over a collapsed lung, Claire proceeded to backhand another civilian with her empty gun.

"Leon, gimme your shotgun!", the youngest Redfield ventured suddenly as she wiped a smear of blood from her neckline.

Leon stared at the movement for a moment.

"Shotgun?" He repeated incredulously.

"Yes, shotgun! _Hurry!_"

Leon paused again, still staring at her from beneath his brow.

"..._Shotgun._"

"Bingo."

Despite her fervent, more than reasonable request, the blond officer continued to stare as if she'd just become infected herself. His baleful look was soon accompanied by the flex of his clamped jaw, and his gaze squinted in slight scrutiny.

"Claire, _what_ shotgun?"

Pinned by his suddenly very attractive stare, the brunette seemed to falter at his words.

"The one you _picked up_, hotshot." Oh god, please, no.

Another pregnant pause.

"Well, this is news to me."

The two unlikely companions continued to stare at each other. A city was eating itself from the inside out, and yet right now this current conversation seemed far more important.

"Well, _crap_."

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**The End.**

**Author's Note:** Based loosely off of the Darkside Chronicles. Don't you ever wonder what would happen if they were left with only handguns throughout the whole game? It would be quite a short R.E installment indeed. XD;


End file.
